


we live through scars this time

by zapataspatterson



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, F/F, Past Child Abuse, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zapataspatterson/pseuds/zapataspatterson
Summary: patterson hears the story behind tasha's scars.





	we live through scars this time

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i'm sorry. this fic was inspired by miss audrey esparza herself when she said she imagined tasha with lots of scars so blame her!
> 
> second, it gets pretty heavy. if past domestic violence and graphic description of it is something that will trigger you, i'd advise against reading this
> 
> last but not least, it hurts but it's worth it?
> 
> (it's 2am i'm sorry if there are any typos i'm too tired to read properly)

Between solving tattoos and guiding the team to safety, it had been a long day. Whenever they took a step in the right direction, Roman would do something that’d send them two steps back.

It was tiring.

Patterson loved her job, she really did, but sometimes it felt too much. Too much pressure. Too much stress. Too damn much.

And on top of that, she still wasn’t talking to her best friend. The only person who could bring a smile to her face amidst all the chaos. The only person who knew how to make her relax. The only person who would come up to her when she was working too hard and say, “Hey, let’s grab dinner and have a few drinks.”

It hurt to look at Tasha and not be able to talk to her like she used to. All she wanted was to tell her everything on her mind.

The last time they had a conversation – if you could even call it that – was when they were in the elevator and she had thanked the brunette for saving her life. And then Tasha asked her about Jack.

She wanted to let her in again. She wanted to tell her the date was a complete disaster. She wanted to tell her how Jack brought her to a cooking class he had booked when he was still together with his ex, that he made her tell the people at the class that her name was _Diane_ (she doesn’t even look like a Diane, for god’s sake), and how he kept comparing her to his ex. How she would’ve been dead if Tasha hadn’t saved her ass because _Jack_ didn’t bring his gun despite working for the FBI.

Going on a date with someone who kept talking about his ex and then almost dying? Not fun at all.

Patterson pushed the locker room door open with a sigh and went to her locker to retrieve her stuff. She couldn’t wait to get home and play video games to take some of the stress off. This week had been absolute hell. However, she stopped in he tracks when she saw Tasha standing there, only wearing a bra with her back facing Patterson.

That wasn’t the reason why she seemed to be paralyzed, though. Tasha’s back was covered in scars. Some were long and thick. Some were small and almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Her breath hitched, echoing in the empty room and making the other woman look over her shoulder at her.

“Patterson?” Tasha asked with a frown, grabbing a clean shirt from her open locker and pulling it over her head.

“I…” Patterson choked up. “Your scars…” She breathed out, locking eyes with Tasha.

The brunette let out a quiet chuckle, understanding why the blonde looked so shocked. “Yeah…” She scratched her head, not knowing what to say. Nobody had seen her scars before. Well, except for Reade - that was once and he didn’t even seem to notice them.

Patterson took a step closer to the CIA agent. “Do you…” She began, her voice growing smaller. Those weren’t the right words. “Would you let me see them?” She asked, grimacing. “That- that was dumb. I’m sorry. Forget I said that.”

She began to turn around when she felt a hand closing around her wrist and pulling her in closer. “I’ve never showed them to anybody,” Tasha whispered, looking everywhere but at Patterson.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that,” the scientist apologized and mentally slapped herself. _You can’t just ask people to see their scars, Patterson. It doesn’t matter if that person used to be your best friend. You don’t do that_.

“It’s fine,” Tasha reassured, squeezing her wrist gently. “Do you really want to see them?” She asked curiously.

“I- Yeah, if that’s okay with you. Obviously,” Patterson babbled then bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from saying anything stupid.

Tasha flashed her a smile that said _stop worrying_ as she let go of Patterson’s wrist and pulled her shit off, standing only in her bra and pants in front of the blonde.

The blonde gulped as she looked down Tasha’s body. She noticed two small scars – one in her ribs, right under her bra and the other where her appendix should be. There was also a bullet scar in her shoulder from the time she got shot when Sandstorm invaded the FBI building.

“Um, yeah,” Tasha cleared her throat. “I had my appendix removed when I was a teenager. Worst pain of my life.” She chuckled and moved her put her hand on her ribs, rubbing her thumb across the pale, raised scar. “I was new in the NYPD, we were called to stop a robbery at a convenience store and the robber tried to stab me. I don’t know how I didn’t get stabbed, I guess I was high on adrenaline or something, but his knife only cut through my uniform and skin and I got this scar.”

Patterson hummed quietly but said nothing, her brows knitted together as she continued to stare at the scar. It was as though she was trying to imagine the exact moment Tasha got it. “Weren’t you scared?” She questioned, looking from the scar up to brown eyes.

“Like hell,” Tasha affirmed and crossed her arms over her chest. “It was my fourth or fifth time on the field and I almost got stabbed. It was terrifying.”

Patterson nodded in understanding, her hands itching to uncross Tasha’s arms and trace the scar with her fingers. The brunette’s lips twitched slightly as she turned around so Patterson could see the scars in her back.

The scars there were more aggressive, bigger. The scarred tissue was pale and contrasted with her tanned skin, making it more visible.

“Those are from when I was a child,” Tasha whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She hated remembering about them and hated even more talking about them.

Patterson sensed Tasha’s hesitation and put her hand on her arm. “You don’t have to,” she said quietly. She didn’t want Tasha to tell her anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tasha sighed and shook her head. “My father was a drunk. He used to spend all of our family’s money on beer, vodka, whiskey – you name it. If it was an alcoholic beverage, he was probably drinking it. Some days he would get home late at night when everyone was sleeping, other days he would get home at dinner time. Mom wasn’t happy with him. I remember the screams, the sound of glass hitting the wall and breaking, my brothers crying.” She said, her voice trembling.

Patterson blinked rapidly, trying to stop herself from tearing up. She could hear the hurt in Tasha’s voice as she told her that story and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around the other woman and hold her. She squeezed Tasha’s arms, silently telling her she was there and she was listening.

“He used to beat my mom. He would drag her into their room and beat her when she said no to him, when she said no to having sex with him, when she raised her voice at him,” her voice cracked.  “I was five. I was a child. I wanted to understand why my mom had so many bruises, I wanted him to _stop_ hurting my mom. Then one day I asked him to stop because I was scared, everyone was scared, and he hit me.

He grabbed a stick and hit me in the back until my skin was so beaten up and wounded that it started bleeding. I was crying out in pain; my mom was begging for him to stop and he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t stop until the neighbors called the cops and they came to our house to arrest him.” Tasha let out a sob and closed her fist, hitting it against the metal locker – hard. “Mom said I would outgrow the scars but they’re still there. They’re there and they’re a reminder of how much of a bastard that thing I used to call a father was. He left us shortly after that and we’ve never heard of him again.”

The blonde didn’t know when she started crying, but her face was wet from tears, her chest ached and it felt like her lungs were on fire.  She had no idea Tasha went through all that when she was a child. She knew her father had left Tasha and her family when she was still a child but she didn’t know it was because of that. She didn’t know her best friend was so scarred physically and emotionally.

When she met Tasha for the first time, she saw a fierce and confident woman who didn’t let people in easily. It had taken her a long time to even become friends with the other woman. Tasha is a cunning, witty, hardworking woman with a troubled past and strong protective tendencies and after hearing her story, she understood _why_ Tasha had kept Borden a secret from her.

She was trying to protect Patterson from someone toxic.

“Tash…” Patterson whispered, her voice heavy emotion. She slid her hand up Tasha’s arm, across her shoulders and down toward her back. Gentle, warm fingertips traced the scars, from one end to another, feeling the texture of the scarred skin.

Tasha’s breath hitched and more tears fell from her eyes. Telling Patterson the stories of her scars evoked feelings from her that she hadn’t felt in years. All of the pain had come back rushing and hitting her like a train.

“They’re ugly, I know.”

“No, they’re not,” Patterson countered gently, turning the other woman around. They both were crying messes but that didn’t matter. “They’re part of what makes you, _you_. The story behind them is ugly because you didn’t deserve to go through that, but you did and those scars show how strong you are.” She whispered and Tasha scoffed. “It’s true. You’ve grown up into a beautiful, smart, strong woman who would do anything for the safety of other people.”

Tasha opened her mouth to argue but Patterson only shook her head. “I’m not done,” she chastised. “I didn’t understand why you lied to me about Borden being alive but I do now and I forgive you.”

The brunette broke down crying as she wrapped her arms around the scientist and pulled her into a hug. Patterson told her she’s strong and beautiful when she’s not; she’s broken and twisted, all sharp edges and painful memories.

“The scars don’t define you. They’re a reminder of your past but they’re also what make you so unique,” Patterson whispered in her ear, tightening her hold on Tasha. “You’re beautiful, Tasha. Scarred or not.”

Tasha pulled back slightly, just enough to be able to look at Patterson. The blonde’s eyes were red from crying (much like her own), her nose and cheeks had a pink tint covering them; it wasn’t fair that she looked beautiful even when they both were crying messes. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

Tasha gave her a small, watery smile before pressing her lips to Patterson’s. She could taste the tears on them and felt how soft and warm they were. She was about to pull back when she felt those lips moving against hers and Patterson sighing into her mouth, making her entire body quiver.

“I’m sorry,” the brunette whispered when they pulled back.

“For what?” Patterson asked breathlessly.

Tasha watched Patterson’s face, looking for any sign of discomfort and not finding any. She wanted to make sure she didn’t regret kissing her. “For lying to you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

“I know that now,” the blonde replied as she cupped Tasha’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you. But I know you were only trying to protect me and I appreciate that. I really do.”

The agent smiled, nodding slightly. “Can I ask you a question?”

Patterson raised her eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Patterson chuckled, choosing not to reply and closing the distance between their lips instead.

They both were flawed and had their own scars; they both had stuff to figure out, but this seemed like a step in the right direction. Patterson and Tasha had found each other again.

Maybe things would be better from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry again


End file.
